t Ravenclaw! Not that I'm 

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supposed to take sides, as a teacher... " he added hastily 

They drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he'd 
been wondering for a while. 

"What's under a dementor's hood?" 

Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully. 

"Hmmm... well, the only people who really know are in no condition to 
tell us. You see, the dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and 
worst weapon." 

"What's that?" 

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin, with a slightly twisted 
smile. "It's what dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I 
suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp 
their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and -- and suck out his soul." 

Harry accidentally spat out a bit of butterbeer. 

"What -- they kill --?" 

"Oh no," said Lupin. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your 
soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But 
you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no. .. anything. 
There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty 
shell. And your soul is gone forever... lost." 

Lupin drank a little more butterbeer, then said, "It's the fate that 
awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The 
Ministry have given the dementors permission to perform it if they find 
him." 

Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul 
sucked out through their mouth. But then he thought of Black. 

"He deserves it," he said suddenly. 

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"You think so?" said Lupin lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves 
that?" 

"Yes," said Harry defiantly. "For... for some things..." 

He would have liked to have told Lupin about the conversation he'd 
overheard about Black in the Three Broomsticks, about Black betraying 
his mother and father, but it would have involved revealing that he'd 
gone to Hogsmeade without permission, and he knew Lupin wouldn't be very 
impressed by that. So he finished his butterbeer, thanked Lupin, and 
left the History of Magic classroom. 

Harry half wished that he hadn't asked what was under a dementor's hood, 
the answer had been so horrible, and he was so lost in unpleasant 
thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you 
that he walked headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs. 

"Do watch where you're going, Potter!" 

"Sorry, Professor --" 

"I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room, Well, 
here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't 
seem to be anything wrong with it at all. You've got a very good friend 
somewhere, Potter...." 

Harry's jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt, and it looked as 
magnificent as ever. 

"I can have it back?" Harry said weakly. "Seriously?" 

"Seriously," said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling. "I 
daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't 
you? And Potter -- do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the 
running for the eighth year. in a row, as Professor Snape was kind 
enough to remind me only last night...." 

Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt back upstairs toward Gryffindor 
Tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing toward him, grinning 
from ear to ear. 

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"She gave it to You? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? 
Tomorrow?" 

"Yeah... anything," said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been in a 
month. "You know what -- we should make up with Hermione.... She was 
only trying to help...." 

"Yeah, all right," said Ron. "She's in the common room how working, for 
a change --" 

They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville 
Longbottom, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him 
entrance. 

"I wrote them down!" Neville was saying tearfully. "But I must've 
dropped them somewhere!" 

"A likely tale!" roared Sir Cadogan. Then, spotting Harry and Ron: "Good 
even, my fine young yeomen! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying 
to force entry to the chambers within!" 

"Oh, shut up," said Ron as he and Harry drew level with Neville. 

"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told them miserably. "I made him tell 
me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps 
changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!" 

"Oddsbodikins," said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely 
disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common 
room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the 
next moment, Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his 
Firebolt. 

"Where'd you get it, Harry?" 

"Will you let me have a go?" "Have you ridden it yet, Harry?" 

"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!" 

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"Can I just hold it, Harry?" 

After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was Passed around and 
admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a 
clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn't rushed over to them, 
bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron 
approached her table and at last, she looked up. 

"I got it back," said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the 
Firebolt. 

"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron. 

"Well -- there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you 
know now that it's safe!" 

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "Id better put it upstairs." 

"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat 
tonic." 

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, 
carried it away up the boys' staircase. 

"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked Hermione. 

"I suppose so," said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a 
chair. 

Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay 
on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies 
essay ("Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity" and at the rune 
translation Hermione was now poring over. 

"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her. 

"Oh, well -- you know -- working hard," said Hermione. Close-up, Harry 
saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin. 

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching 

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her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary. 
"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized. 
"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very 

complicated-looking number chart. 

"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favorite 
subject! It's --" 
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out. 


At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' 
staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the 
entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder -- and 
then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet. 

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. 
"LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face. 
"Ron, what --?" 
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!" 
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry 


looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. 


Something that looked horribly like -"
BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU 
KNOW 
WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?" 

"N -- no," said Hermione in a trembling voice. 
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and 


Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were 
several long, ginger cat hairs. 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

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GRYFFINDOR VERSUS RAVENCLAW 

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so 
angry with the other that Harry couldn't see how they'd ever make up. 

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to 
eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on 
him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by 
suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds. 
Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that 
Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been 
there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat 
ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical 
Menagerie. 

Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when 
he tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that 
way, she lost her temper with Harry too. 

"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" she said shrilly. "First the 
Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! just leave me 
alone, Harry, I've got a lot of work to do!" 

Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed. 

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said 
Fred bracingly. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. 
It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly -- one swallow -- he 
probably didn't feel a thing." 

"Fred!" said Ginny indignantly. 

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George. 

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry?" 

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry. 

"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the 
scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, 

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come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's 
the point of moaning?" 

In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry persuaded him to come 
along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the